Saturday, November 10, 2012

I was privileged to grow up on one of the last of the large old ranches in Southern Alberta. Situated half way between the towns of Milk River and Del Bonita, it covered two-and-a-half townships, close to 92 square miles.

Our closest neighbour was over nine miles away.

A little far to drop by to borrow a cup of sugar, but close enough to help in the case of a real emergency, which was not uncommon on the large spread we ran, and with the number of people involved in the daily workings.The ranch buildings themselves were nestled snugly in a bend of the South Fork of the Milk River.

Towering cliffs surrounded us. Cliffs which were home, at times, to a pair of blue herons, and at all others, to marmots, badgers, porcupines, and a very prolific flock of mud swallows.

We learned to swim in that river.

We tobogganed down the gentler slopes of those cliffs.

We built dams and caught frogs and snakes.

I even trapped a full grown jack rabbit – almost.It was an unusual life, as I have now come to know.

At the time, it was normal.

We thought everyone lived like we did. Far from any outside influences. Relying on each other. Immersed in the needs of the family and the ranch.

For a child growing up, it was peace itself.

P.S. Most of the buildings are gone now, burned in the terrible grass fires of this past summer. But they remain solid and real in my memories.

And I had just realized that boys
didn't have (as I had always suspected) cooties.

I also discovered that I was capable of
being a two-faced non-friend.

The two went together.

Perhaps I should explain.

Grade five.

The year when math problems became more
. . . problematic.

Times tables proved important.

Story writing, more intense and
personal.

Mrs. Herbst officially turned into
Oh-Teacher-of-the-Blue-Hair.

And boys became . . . interesting.

The latter started with a note, passed
to me during free reading.

“Will you go to the movie with me on
Saturday?”

It was signed, 'Paul'.

What???!

A boy?!

Wanted to go to a movie with me?!

What should I say?

What should I do?

What should I wear?!

Shakily I wrote, “okay” on the note
and passed it back.

He unfolded it, read it and smiled at
me.

And that was it.

My feet didn't touch the ground for the
rest of the day.

For the rest of the week, actually.

Saturday was a long time coming.

I should mention, here, that Paul was
one of the cool boys.

The popular, cool boys.

And way out of my league.

But his group adopted me as one of
their own.

For the first time in my life, I was
hanging with the cool crowd.

Back to my story . . .

I don't remember much about the movie,
other than it was an Audie Murphy and involved something called
'cactus torture' which made me, quite literally, sick to my stomach.

And that Paul held my hand through the
whole thing.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

After that, we met every day on the
playground and on Saturday afternoons at the movies.

For about a month.

Suddenly, Paul had his eye on someone
else.

And I was no longer one of the cool
crowd.

Bitter and angry, I rejoined my old
group.

Who took me back in without so much as
a frown.

For half a morning, I complained
bitingly.

Making acid comments about 'the cool
kids' and how fickle they were. And mean. And nasty. And . . .

You can see where this is going.

“Well, you're with your old friends
now and that's all that matters,” one of my group said.

“Yes,” I said. “I wouldn't go
back with them if they begged me!”

Just then, three of the cool girls came
over to us. “Diane. Lloyd likes you. Do you want to come back to
our group?”

I sprinted to join them.

Didn't even look back.

Now I met Lloyd every day on the
playground and held hands with him at the Saturday afternoon movies.

I know what you are thinking.

Fickle non-friend.

And you're not wrong.

Ahem . . .

This went on for some time.

Throughout the rest of Grade five in
fact.

Then my popularity waned.

And died.

And do you know what?

My old group again took me back.

Without even a sideways glance.

This time, I stayed.

We went through grade six together.

Then Junior High.

Then Senior high.

And we had fun.

I discovered that it all comes back to
math.

♀ + ♀♀♀
= ☼♥♫.

♀+ ♂
=brain-dead non-friend.

I learned my lesson.

P.S. At our class reunions, I've
discovered that we are no longer divided into the 'cool' kids and the
'dweebs'. The 'cool' kids have had just as many challenges in life as
me and my group. The same heartaches. The same joys and reasons to
celebrate.

Translate

My novel, Carving Angels

My Second Novel: Kris Kringle's Magic

About the Mom

Diane was born and raised on one of the last of the great old Southern Alberta ranches. A way of life that is fast disappearing now. Through her memories and stories, she keeps it alive. And even, at times, accurate . . .